


The Pursuit of Stone; Letters

by BabbleKing (Babblish)



Series: The Heart of Janus [2]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Gen, Inspired by this thing on Tumblr, Maximum Sass, Purple Prose, teaser for a much larger fic, that I will start publishing one day I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-30 10:27:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babblish/pseuds/BabbleKing
Summary: It's roughly the turn of the 20th Century and Scaarbach sits down to write a strongly worded letter.





	The Pursuit of Stone; Letters

Sounds of human activity echoed from the streets below, the air hot and dry, with nought but the faintest of breezes lifting the cotton curtains in the window, doing nothing to make the poky hotel bedroom liveable in any meaningful way. In the privacy of his own company, Scaarbach had stripped to his undershirt, occasionally fanning himself with an old letter in a vain attempt to cool himself down. The light of day faded in the dusk, the room lit by an old fashioned Argand lamp positioned helpfully on the rickety writing desk. Scaarbach picked at the chipping blue paint, fanning a stray piece onto the faded, once brilliant carpet at his feet. He sighed and unfolded the letter in his hand, flattening it out in order to better read its words. He had read it a thousand times over but he could still hear the dismissive tone of the beautifully written words as sharply as if the man had spoken them himself.

  


* * *

_Dearest siblings whose presence I barely tolerate, and to those who won’t live long enough to ever merit my explicit attention, _

_As hopefully you should have been made well aware, I alone have retrieved the first piece of the Killahead bridge. Our Master could not be more pleased with this result and requests that all resources be diverted into locating and retrieving the remaining pieces. Unfortunately I cannot give further indication as to where the enemy may have hidden the pieces that comprise the door to our triumph, as I regret to inform our numbers that my Most Esteemed Collaborator “broke” our last remaining informant, and my human sources are limited to primarily English speaking nobs and gold-seeking ruffians. One imagines that it will prove to be a difficult and most exhaustive task, yet we cannot afford to fail in our purpose most divinely reckoned by She Who Made Us All._

_May the Lady watch over us,_  
_The Whispering Basilisk_  
_Commandant Stricklander of the Lady’s Eye_

_P.S. Please send any and all pending pieces to the usual address for our Most Esteemed Collaborator’s review._

_P.P.S. Note that the pending pieces are to be accompanied at all times, if I find out one of you absolute pebble brains have lost a piece I will drag you to the Lady’s Eye and feed you to our Most Esteemed Collaborator myself!!!!_

_P.P.P.S. Thank you Sidonia for your kind and heartfelt words, I hope they bring you the utmost comfort when they come back to bite you in the fullness of time._

  


* * *

Scaarbach positively glowered in the increasingly dimming light, moving the letter aside and preparing a fresh sheet of embossed paper at the desk. He readied his pen with ink, formulating his response in his head. He had sent out a telegram earlier that day, priced far more than he felt fair but under the circumstances he had had little choice. It had been short, as all telegrams were, and failed to contain the barbs he hoped to communicate to the elder changeling who carried himself as though he weren’t even an impure like everyone else. He took a deep breath and began to write, careful to use as neat a handwriting as he could possibly muster in order to compete with Stricklander’s infuriatingly perfect and florid hand.

  


* * *

_Dear Whispering Basilisk, Commandant of the Lady’s Eye, and reported lover and beau of the most dismal quality,_

_May this letter grace your long and suspiciously unweathered fingers while my telegram is still fresh in your burdened memory. I will spare you the full account of my adventures as I wish to see your face personally when I tell you exactly the wonders I have stumbled upon through means you could hardly imagine. What I am willing to divulge is that despite your abrupt departure with the stone you, don’t deny, took from my possession, I did not leave empty handed, and I’m not referring to your young professor friend. I have explored the ancient temples of our first people, and I have ridden on the backs of dragons. Prepare yourself for I will meet with our Most Esteemed Prince of Shadows to present my gift to him personally, do not dare deny me this right, I will not be dismissed like some wearisome egg, I have earned my right to face Him by my dedication and accomplishments alone. I will settle for nothing less._

_May the Lady watch over us all,_  
_“That Valet”_  
_Raven of the Citadel of Bones_

_P.S. Charlie was wonderful company, and you are an utter and absolute fool to have not taken full advantage of his obvious affections when you had the chance._

_P.P.S. I don’t know if anyone has taken the liberty to tell you this in person, but maroon is not your colour, don’t ever wear it again._

  


* * *

It was tantamount to insubordination but when the Order saw what he had in tow they wouldn’t dream of saying a word against him. Scaarbach thought he had the Lady on his side. No, he _knew_ it. He had endured so much in order to get her attention but with it he was going to do his absolute best to deserve it. This meant, against his better instincts, that he needed to show his stone to those who mattered most, no matter how terrifying or suicidal the prospect. Scaarbach waited for the ink to dry, wishing he had something chilled or alcoholic to sip as he revelled in his petty, spiteful indulgence. He walked over to the perfectly ordinary chest he had had the young boys drag up to his room and opened it with reverence. Pale blue light bathed his enamoured features as he felt the magic within. It was subtle, perhaps in another mood he wouldn’t have noticed it at all, but as he knelt over the bridge piece he felt the magic ebb and flow much like a breath or a heartbeat, and knew that it was, in some way he couldn’t hope to quantify, alive. He held his hand out, daring himself to touch the ancient carved surface. Most importantly, he thought to himself, it was _his_.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of a much larger fic I haven't published yet, but the gist of the fic is following Scaarbach's rise to power starting from the end of the 18th Century and his many, many mistakes, to his ultimate demise in the beginning of the 21st Century at the hands of the first human Trollhunter.
> 
> I am currently unsure if I will delete this teaser once I start publishing the fic properly, I imagine it will depend on how greatly the scene has changed by that point, or if I've even decided to cut it out entirely for whatever reason.


End file.
